


Someplace Far Away From Here

by NETHERW4RT



Series: Requests/Prompts [3]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Childhood Friends, Established Relationship, Flirting, Kissing, M/M, Romance, Running Away, Swearing, Teasing, george doesnt want to be king :(, if you catch my drift, kind of......but also not, yeah its another king george and knight dream au, yuuuuuuuuuuup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27787225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NETHERW4RT/pseuds/NETHERW4RT
Summary: George never wanted to be king.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Requests/Prompts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2013379
Comments: 21
Kudos: 390





	Someplace Far Away From Here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aurevilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurevilly/gifts).



> it’s here !! had fun writing this one :)

He remembered the warm summer breeze, soft tan skin, and messy flower crowns. 

The castle was a boring place most of the time; George wasn’t allowed outside without a guard of some sort, so he was kept for hours on end in his bedchamber, signing documents and regulating laws. Most of which he never really read over. Sure, it was probably extremely worrying for a king to be so lax about his duties, but _of course_ he would be—the brunet wasn’t even supposed to be king yet, in the first place.

A sigh escaped his lips as George’s pen scribbled a signature over another paper—one of many, _many_ more. If he could kill his shitty father two times over, he certainly would; he wasn’t fit for this. He never was. After all, part of the reason he was so often scolded as a child was because he was so good at goofing off.

George smiled slightly. Ah yes, the reason he had gotten so good at slacking off in the first place— _Dream_. That wasn’t his real name, no, but it suited the boy more than George ever thought it would. Especially now.

“Dream,” he called tiredly, setting down his pen as the chair squeaked backwards. The blond standing at the far end of the room near the doorway glanced up.

“Yes, your majesty?”

George frowned at the formality. “Oh, drop it. It’s just us.” He sighed and stood from his desk, sliding the heavy robe from his shoulders in favor of draping it across the back of his chair. Dream watched him carefully, as if he would shatter into a billion pieces at the slightest movement. His feet carried him closer to the knight until his fingers registered the cool touch of metallic armor. “Won’t you take these off?”

“You know I can’t do that,” Dream said, unmoving. His chest rose and fell with every breath, a reminder that he was still alive and not a ghost of George’s past.

“What happened to that reckless little boy? You’ve killed him.”

Dream hummed. “I had to. I can’t be taking risks with the king’s life on the line.”

George pulled his hand back and huffed. His palm was warm and much more suitable than the icy armor across Dream’s chest. Still, he longed to reach out again and touch it. He didn’t. “My life is not a worthy exchange for your livelihood.”

“It is,” the blond breathed. “It is when it’s you.”

“You’re horrible,” George muttered and turned away, sitting against the edge of his bed; it was much too large for him. Large and lonely. Cold.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re not,” the brunet countered quickly, sliding off his boots. He set them aside, pressed right against the corner between the bed and the wall. “You’re not sorry, Dream. And that’s exactly the problem. You’ll keep doing this for me until it wears you down. I don’t want that. I don’t want _this_. I never did!” He sighed, exasperated, and let himself fall back against the bed. It was only mildly uncomfortable with the extra layers of clothes and accessories.

The air became thick with tension as the blond stayed silent. George stirred in his own anger, pressing the palms of his hands against flush cheeks. He sat there for a while longer, until the silent clink of metal carried across his room and he moved his arms to see Dream standing above him.

“What?” He asked.

Dream paused and inhaled slowly. “ _George_.”

George’s breath hitched. “ _Clay_ ,” he replied quietly. “What do you want?”

“You to be happy.”

“Cut the bullshit, already.” George groaned and sat up, face to face with a chestplate resting over tight leather. “I would be happier far away from here. I—I would be happier if it were just us.”

Dream swallowed dryly. “You—George, you know why I became a knight. You know, don’t you?”

“Of course I know, Dream, you—”

“I’m devoting my life to you,” Dream finished, staring him down with those golden emerald eyes that could probably order him around more than George could to any of his citizens. “I haven’t changed as much as you think, George. I haven’t. I wouldn’t do this for anyone else. Think about that.”

And George did, fingers curling around the bedspread below him and eyes falling anywhere but Dream’s face. He bit his lip gently. “Take off your armor, Dream. Please.”

This time, Dream complied, albeit still hesitantly. He set the pieces carefully up on a rack on the other side of the room before swiftly moving back. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes.” George nodded slowly, hastily undoing the awkward buckles and knots of his own clothing, tossing all the useless garments aside so that he was only sitting in a loose blouse and those stupidly tight trousers. “Dream,” he reached out and lightly touched the side of Dream’s arm, “kiss me.”

The blond’s eyes burned, but he moved forward and pressed himself against George until the brunet fell back against the bed for the second time that evening. He let his hands slide down and capture George’s own, their fingers linking together with ease. He kissed him gently, but in a way that was so desperate that even George could tell that he had been longing for this. Hands tangled in dark brown locks as it deepened and George’s heart skipped a beat.

“Dream,” George muttered when he finally pulled back.

“No,” Dream said quickly, “my real name, George. Say it again.”

“Clay.”

Dream grinned. “I’ll whisk you away, George. Somewhere nice—it’ll just be us. You think you want that?”

George nodded, the feeling of warm fingers brushing through his hair a comfort he didn’t realize he needed. “Horribly. I’d travel to the ends of the earth and back if it meant being with you, Dre—er, _Clay_.”

“I’ll be killed,” Dream muttered with a chuckle against George’s lips, though the latter was no longer smiling. “Either you or the other guards. Which one do you think will slaughter me first?”

“Don’t talk like that. They’ll kill me first before they lay a hand on you.”

“Oh, darling, you know I can’t let that happen.”

George felt his cheeks burn once more at the sudden usage of a pet name and he turned his head away; Dream hummed and dipped down in response, littering the skin of his neck with kisses. He shivered under Dream’s touch and gripped at the fabric of his sleeves.

“Take me away then,” he dared to say. “We can go somewhere no one else knows about. I’ll play with your hair,” he pulled his hand up and twirled a golden strand of hair around his finger, “and make you flower crowns. Far better than any heavy gold one. Just like the old days.”

“Just like the old days?” Dream leaned back slightly and pressed another quick kiss against George’s lips when he turned back towards him.

“Just like the old days,” George repeated in a whisper. “We can leave tonight—no one has to know.”

“You’re devious, your majesty.”

The brunet scoffed and lightly tugged at Dream’s hair. “Stop that. I won’t be a king soon, if you whisk me away like you said.”

“You’re always a king, George—you’re _my_ king.”

“So sappy. Just promise you’ll take me away from here.”

Dream smiled, sitting up over him. He reached for George’s hand and wrapped their pinkies around each other. “It’s a promise.” He chuckled. “We’re like children.”

George figured that was probably true, but he said nothing as his skin burned against Dream’s. After a moment, they let go and gathered themselves together; it wasn’t much longer till sunset and they would leave soon after. He was giddy—giddier than he had been in years. He would be leaving everything behind—the kingdom, the responsibilities, everything. Nothing but Dream would be left.

Nothing but _Clay_.

**Author's Note:**

> still taking requests btw lol


End file.
